


Need To Know

by wings128



Series: Pick A Number [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/pseuds/wings128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's had enough of his brother's secrets, he needs to know, dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need To Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoes_of_another_life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/gifts).



> Written in answer to stir_of_echoes' prompt in a secret character meme:  
>  _7 has a secret identity that is discovered by 12. What is their secret identity and how do they convince 12 to keep it a secret?_

Sam sat at the formica table, his laptop screen bathing his face in cool blue as he scrolled through his emails, all of his attention focused on his brother. Dean was hunched over, shoulders raised and curved in, elbows embedding divots into the worn denim at his knees, and long fingers fisting his now-quiet phone. Tension built between them, thick and expectant, but just as Sam opened his mouth to say something, _anything,_ Dean was on his feet, grabbing his keys and muttering about food. 

The growl of the Impala’s engine fading out as Dean put even more distance between them, made Sam’s decision for him. He was sick of the secrets. It had been going on for a while, quiet calls that ended with Dean bailing for a few hours, only to return with food and a lingering blush on his cheeks. Whatever this was, Sam was going to find out, because, _dammit,_ enough with the secrets. Jacket on, room key and phone in hand, Sam headed for the first of only two places Dean could get food in this ass-end-of-nowhere town. 

It was ten in the morning, according to his phone, on a Saturday; so where was everyone? 

Even here, there should’ve been at least a few locals going about their suburban normalcy, but Sam was alone as his long legs ate their way along the uneven concrete that served as a sidewalk. It wasn’t until he reached the second place - a market, shiny and inviting in its fresh-looking coat of grey paint, red neon logo emblazoned over its doors, and car infested parking lot - that Sam’s hackles began to settle. The Impala was parked in what must’ve been one of the last available spots near the exit. Why Dean had chosen stuff you had to cook when their room didn’t even have a jug to boil water and the other food joint was a diner, whose window had colourfully boasted _the best burgers in the south;_ Sam had no idea. Who knew why Dean did half of what he did? All Sam cared about at this point, was finding Dean and demanding _dudewhatthehell?!_

Sam had a clear view over the sea of eager locals – so that’s where everyone was – filling the area in front of the building’s entrance, attention focused on the group standing by the enormous red ribbon. He froze; every muscle in his body immobile with shock. No. Way. It couldn’t be. Seriously?!

“I’d like to welcome you to our little town, I’m sure you’re both very busy people.” A trickle of chuckles rippled through the crowd as the guy with the mic laughed at his own joke, before gesturing to the Black Widow and Hawkeye. 

“As agents of S.H.I.E.L.D we now declare this branch of _Rockman’s_ open.” Dean and the hot redhead in a black rubber catsuit announced as they snipped the red satin with oversized gold scissors.

Sam’s lips curved up in a slow sweet smile as he watched Dean almost-jogging towards where Sam waited next to the Impala. He eyed his brother’s long bowed legs sheathed in tight black rubber, his biceps smooth and exposed by the sleeveless tunic. Jesus, he even had knee boots and thigh straps, gauntlets and a bow. This was _too good!_ Hot as Dean looked, Sam was _so_ going to hold this over Dean for like…FOREVER! He would absolutely make Dean suffer. He owed it to younger brothers everywhere.

“Not a word, Sammy, not a word,” Dean threatened, looking completely in character as he eyed his Yeti of a kid brother, “or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what?” Sam grinned and stroked his fingers suggestively over the leather at Dean’s tense wrist. “Make me quiver with your bow?”


End file.
